


Sleeping With The Enemy

by ElectricityLingerss



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, FBI Agent Steve, Flirting, Fluff, Lawyer Tony, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricityLingerss/pseuds/ElectricityLingerss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Steve’s eyes were taking another leisurely trip down his trim body when he noticed the man go still. He dragged his eyes back up to mystery man's face, and saw him staring back at him with one eyebrow raised, eyes amused. Steve blushed at having been caught staring, and his breath stuttered slightly as the man slowly looked him up and down, Steve feeling the perusal like a physical caress.'</p><p> <br/>Steve is a newly qualified FBI agent, Tony is a highly sought after defence attorney. Their paths cross and sparks fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely based on the BBC series, _Cuffs_. In particular, the relationship between Jake and Simon. 
> 
> Also, I'm [ElectricityLingerss](http://electricitylingerss.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr if you want to come say hi!

Steve had just dropped off his suspect in an interrogation room the first time he saw him. It was his first day as an official FBI special agent, fresh out of the academy and straight into the New York field office – one of the toughest in the country. 

He was feeling thoroughly out of his depth, having already been called to the scene of two separate robberies, as well as a double homicide. The images of blood splatters and unfocused eyes were still burned into his brain. Thank God he had is partner. Natasha Romanov was scary as fuck and alarmingly competent. She clearly took no shit from anybody, which Steve had already seen first hand when she had kneed a suspect in the balls and slapped him in handcuffs for concentrating too hard on her ass and not on answering her questions. Steve could already see a lifetime of being good cop in his future. 

When they had been partnered up earlier that day, she had told him in no uncertain terms that he had better not fuck up, or it’ll be her head in the block.

“I’m responsible for you out there. At least for now. It’s your job to listen, learn and do what I tell you to. Don’t do anything stupid, or you’re likely to get both of us killed.” She had stared at him unflinchingly, not even blinking. Steve had felt himself start to sweat under the scrutiny. She seemed to relax a little under Steve’s deer in the headlights expression, and clapped him on the back. “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Welcome to the FBI.”

Steve liked her. She was petite and beautiful, fiery red hear cut to a soft curling bob, deep green eyes and a ballerina’s body. At first glance she wasn’t even remotely intimidating, but thinking she was harmless was a monumental mistake. As Billy-bruised-balls had found out first hand. He was kind of scared to train with her – he had a feeling she could drop him to the mat with little or no effort. 

He had just come back out of the interrogation room to find Natasha so they could start questioning the suspect, when he caught sight of the man through a glass wall of a conference room across the corridor. The man was facing him, talking animatedly to someone and gesturing wildly. Steve’s mind sort of ground to a halt as he studied the man. 

He was dressed in what was clearly a tailored three-piece suit, a deep royal blue that hugged his body to perfection and made his dark, tousled hair shine. He seemed totally at ease and in full control of the room, a slight smirk creeping onto his face, like he new he was winning whatever argument he was having. And what a face it was. Smooth, creamy skin, a complicated looking scruff of facial hair framing pouting lips, stained raspberry red. Steve imagined sinking his teeth into that plump bottom lip and had to supress a shiver of heat that rushed through his body.

Steve’s eyes were taking another leisurely trip down his trim body when he noticed the man go still. He dragged his eyes back up to mystery man's face, and saw him staring back at him with one eyebrow raised, eyes amused. Steve blushed at having been caught staring, and his breath stuttered slightly as the man slowly looked him up and down, Steve feeling the perusal like a physical caress. The man looked back up and met Steve’s stare with a smouldering gaze, eyes dark and pupils blown. As Steve watched, rooted to the spot under the weight of his stare, the man’s tongue flicked out to lick at his top lip briefly. 

Steve felt his stomach clench with want at the sight, but was saved from doing anything potentially embarrassing by Natasha appearing in front of him holding two cups of coffee, and drawing his attention. She was small enough that he could still see over the top of her head, but the interruption was enough to distract, and the moment was gone. When his gaze flickered back to the glass, the man had his back to Steve, once again addressing the room. 

Steve shook himself and focused on Natasha. She was just looking at him expressionlessly as she handed him one of the cups of coffee. 

“Ready?” she asked with a head tilt towards to the interrogation room. 

“Yep… Uh, yeah. Ready.” Steve cleared his throat and cursed internally for allowing himself to be so out of sync because of a pretty face. And body. And eyes… He straightened and kept his gaze determinedly on Natasha’s face. “Yes. After you.”

He ignored her knowing look as she flicked her gaze towards the glass wall, and followed her into the interrogation room, trying to get his head in the game and concentrate on the suspect. 

He didn’t really succeed.

•••

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. He was kept busy running various tasks and accompanying Natasha on callouts, but he still felt unsettled somehow – kept picturing the mystery man licking his lips, imagining him licking something else…

He did have to pull his head out of his ass pretty quick when a witness started to freak out and try to attack him with a knife. He managed to subdue the woman with little fanfare, but it was still a shock. Natasha actually looked mildly impressed afterwards. It wasn’t like he was new to that side of the job, though. Six years in the marines had him well prepared for physical altercations. 

The paperwork, though. That he was not used to – his hand was cramping terribly by the end of the day. Luckily he had people to talk to while he slogged through the never-ending stack of forms. The team he was part of was made up of three sets of partners. There was Natasha and Steve of course, then there was Clint and Sam, for some reason nicknamed the ‘birdboys’. Steve decided not to ask. They were both loud and boisterous, always making jokes and keeping up morale as everyone scribbled away. Sam invited Steve to train with them after they clocked off, bragging about his superior fitness. Steve readily accepted, already looking forward to giving him a run for his money. 

The last two were Bruce and Thor. Bruce was quiet and engrossed in his work for the most part, stopping only occasionally to add something to the conversation. He seemed reserved and calm, but Clint whispered to Steve that Bruce had a wicked temper. You didn’t want to see him when a suspect was disrespecting him, apparently. “Anger management issues,” Clint had said. Steve found that hard to believe, looking at Bruce’s kind smile as he explained one of the forms to Steve. (He would find out several weeks later just how right Clint was.) The last team member was Thor. He was originally from somewhere in Scandinavia, and still had a slight accent. He was big and blond and earnest. He seemed to care very much about justice, and was passionate about honour and fair play. Steve liked him immediately. That is, as soon as he recovered from the crippling handshake of welcome he received, which almost brought him to his knees. 

Eventually, though, they defeated the paper monster and made their way downstairs to change into their workout gear.

•••

“On your left!” Steve called out to Sam as he passed him yet again.

“Fuck off, Steve!” Sam wheezed. 

Steve just laughed and picked up the pace. He had always been good at running, ever since he got over the poor health he had as a kid. As soon as he hit puberty he had the growth spurt of a lifetime and started to build up some endurance to illness. He’d kept up with running ever since. It was a stress release as much as anything. 

He lapped all of the others and tried not to look too smug. After an initial workout in the gym, they had led Steve down to the parking garage for some cardio, making the most of the large structure. 

“There’s nowhere near enough room in that shoebox of a gym to get any decent speed up, Steve.” Sam had explained to a dubious Steve as they led him down to the garage. 

He had to admit it was a good idea, though. He felt more relaxed than he had all day running laps. He let his mind wander as he ran, only vaguely registering what was happening around him and catching a glimpse of Clint staggering to the floor with a breathless gasp of “Aww, lungs, no,” as the rest of the team booed at him.

They all wound down eventually, walking the circuit to cool down. Steve stopped to lean against a pillar and raised the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off of his face, getting his breath back. He stood for a few seconds with the shirt covering his eyes. He registered movement to his right and lowered his shirt slightly, so that his face was uncovered, only to stop and freeze when he saw mystery man standing in front of him, only inched away. The man’s gaze lingered on Steve’s bare chest and abs, shiny with sweat under the lights of the parking garage. Mystery man flicked his eyes up and locked gazes with Steve, a predatory smile spread across his face, making Steve’s stomach swoop. 

Steve struggled to breath, for a whole different reason than the workout, as without breaking Steve’s gaze, the man reached under his jacket and into the pocket of his waistcoat, withdrawing a business card. He took a step closer; so close that Steve could feel his warm breath on his cheek, before reaching down and slipping the card into the waistband of Steve’s sweatpants, one knuckle just grazing Steve’s bare skin. 

Mystery man backed away raised his eyebrows at Steve, before turning and climbing into a nearby shiny black Audi R8, and speeding out of the garage without a backwards glance. Steve slumped against the pillar and sucked in a shuddering breath as soon as the car was out of sight, trying to calm his racing pulse. He let out a short burst of incredulous laughter – this man managed to make him completely lose his mind, and they hadn’t even said a word to each other. 

Steve finally relaxed his grip on his shirt, letting it fall back into place and grabbing the business card out of his waistband. Printed on one side were the words, ‘You know who I am.’ Steve snorted and turned the card over. The second side was more helpful. ‘Tony Stark, Defence Attorney,” was printed in thick black letters, and underneath was a cell phone number, hand written. 

Steve exhaled long and slow, happy to have a name to go with the face. He slipped the card carefully into his pocket and re-joined the others, who didn’t seem to have noticed his visitor. Most of them were collapsed on the floor in a heap of exhaustion. 

Steve’s thoughts raced the whole way back to his apartment, and he finally fell asleep with thoughts of deep caramel coloured eyes and beard burn running through his mind. 

_Tony Stark_


	2. Chapter 2

The next day was eventful to say the least. In the space of the first two hours, Steve and Natasha had brought in three suspects connected to the double homicide for questioning, had almost been shot by one of said suspects, and had to chase another through six blocks before finally running him down. 

Steve and Natasha had just slid back into their car after handing off the suspects to Bruce and Thor to take back to base for questioning, when Natasha decided to reveal her next super power. 

“So, are you going to call him?”

Steve promptly choked on the sip of water he had just taken and looked at Natasha through wide, watering eyes. “Call who?” He gasped out. She couldn’t know right? There’s no way she– 

“The lawyer.”

Steve just stared at her incredulously for several seconds. Natasha smiled evilly.

“I see everything, Steve. It’s best you find this out now.”

“I, uh…”

“You want my advice?”

“Um… Sure?”

“Don’t sleep with the enemy.”

Steve’s eyebrows climbed higher and higher. “The _enemy?_ ”

“Tony Stark is probably the best defence attorney in the state. His intelligence is genius level, and he’s about as stubborn as your average boulder. He’s _very_ good at what he does, and he’s a nightmare to go up against in court. I know that from first-hand experience.”

“It’s his job to win,” Steve defended weakly. 

Natasha nodded. “Yes, and sometimes he’s even in the right, but a lot of the time he isn’t.” She looked at him intently before relaxing. “That’s my professional advice, anyway.”

Steve startled. “Professional? Then what’s your personal advice?”

“Tony is a great guy, Steve. Honestly, he’s a marshmallow underneath his showy exterior. I’ve known him for years and… He could use someone like you in his life.”

“You’re sending me very mixed messages here… Are you saying I should call him or not?”

Natasha shrugged. “I’m saying I think you’d be a good match – if you can get past the professional differences. It’s clear you have a connection, if the levels of eye-fucking I’ve witnessed are anything to go by.” She chuckled softly as Steve began to blush and stutter, before smiling gently at him. “Just be careful.”

“I haven’t even talked to the guy yet, Nat. I met him yesterday for God’s sake!” 

“I know. But I also know a connection when I see it. Tony may be an incorrigible flirt, but he rarely follows through nowadays. You must be special.”

Steve tried and failed not to be warmed by that.

•••

He’d been too busy with work and exhausted when he finally got home to call Tony yet, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about him. And see him.

All. The. Time. 

Tony was becoming more and more difficult to resist by the day. Steve would keep seeing him leaning lazily against walls or sauntering down hallways whenever Steve was around. All the time, still wearing those flawless bespoke suits that Steve would love to see rumpled and creased. 

The first time they had actually spoken to each other had been after another chance meeting, this time outside of the Starbucks next to the field office. Steve was walking towards the coffee shop in a bit of a daze, still feeling the effects of a vicious black eye he had received from one of Natasha’s stray elbows whilst they were both trying to restrain a particularly energetic criminal. He had been given the ok from the Bureau medics, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

He was prodding the swollen area around his eye when he nearly walked straight into Tony, coming out of the shop. Tony had steadied him with one hand, while holding his coffee cup high up out of harms way. Steve spared a second to be thankful none of hit had spilled on Tony’s suit. 

“Whoa, there,” Tony said, his hand still resting on Steve’s arm. And Christ, was he _fondling_ his bicep?

“Err, thanks. Sorry about that.”

“No problem, gorgeous. Nice shiner.”

Steve was unable to stop his cheeks warming at the compliment, but huffed and lightly touched his eye again. 

“Thanks. My partner got a bit overzealous with her elbows.” 

Tony’s raised his eyebrows and winced in sympathy. “Special Agent Romanov, right?” Tony nodded to himself. “She’s beaten me to a pulp in the gym on more than one occasion.” 

Steve tried _very_ hard not to imagine Tony working out in the gym, half-naked and sweaty. He failed. He also tried not to feel jealous that Natasha had her hands all over said half-naked, sweaty body. He failed there too. 

Good God, he was losing his damn mind. He gave himself a silent pep talk and tried to get his head back in the game.

“Is that so? I’ve yet to have that honour, but I expect she’ll get around to it.”

“I’m sure she will. She likes to initiate the baby agents by beating their asses into the mat at least twice.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Well you certainly look like you could hold your own,” Tony said as he eyed up the width of Steve’s shoulders, his hand still mapping the shape of his bicep. 

Steve stepped closer into Tony’s space, not looking away from that piercing caramel gaze. “I know a thing or two,” he murmured in a low voice. He forced down a satisfied smirk when he heard Tony’s breath catch in his throat.

“I just bet you do,” Tony rasped. 

Steve’s face pulled into a predatory smile, not wavering even when it pulled at the sore skin around his eye. 

“I’d be happy to give you a demonstration of my skills,” Steve purred. 

Tony’s eyes had darkened until they were almost black. He leaned forward and placed a warm hand on Steve’s hip, slipping underneath his suit jacket. Steve sucked in a sharp breath as Tony’s thumb started to rub teasingly back and forth across the muscles of his stomach, making them clench. Tony held his gaze for several seconds before twisting sideways to whisper huskily in Steve’s ear.

“You’re playing with fire, Steve,” Tony whispered, voice dripping sex. Steve shivered at the sound of his own name said in Tony’s velvety voice. “If I weren’t already late for a meeting with the senator, I would seriously consider taking you up on that offer.” 

With that, Tony stepped back and, with one last smouldering look, turned and walked away.

•••

Steve was wandering towards his desk a few days later, his mind firmly on the forensic report in his hand. He was just about to slide into his chair, when he noticed that somebody was already in it. Tony was sat there, legs spread wide and a hand running slowly through his artfully tousled hair as he chatted to Sam and Clint. Luckily, Steve had noticed he was there in time. The last thing he needed was to be giving Tony a spontaneous lap dance. In public, at least. Tony looked up at him and gave him one of those sultry smiles.

Steve was compiling a list of all of the reasons why sitting on Tony’s lap would be a _wonderful_ idea, when Tony got smoothly to his feet, denying Steve the chance. Probably for the best. 

Tony picked up a folder that had been on top of the desk and tapped it against Steve’s chest. 

“I just dropped by to give you this,” he said, with another tap of the folder. “My notes on the Osborne case.”

“Thanks, I’ll give it a look.”

“You do that.”

Steve swivelled around to watch Tony leave, berating himself _again_ for letting Tony have such a strong hold over him. Just before Tony walked out or sight, he turned back and caught Steve staring, winked at him and disappeared around the corner. Steve sighed in frustration and made his way back towards his desk, only to stop dead again, when he saw both Sam and Clint staring at him with their mouths open. 

“What?” Steve asked warily as he sat down.

“What the hell was that?” Sam asked.

“Are you crushing on _Stark_ , Stevie?” Clint chipped in gleefully.

“ _Crushing_ on him? What are you, twelve?”

“Everyone knows Clint has the mental age of a toddler, Steve. Answer the question.” Sam insisted, ignoring Clint’s indignant squawk. 

Steve shifted restlessly in his desk chair. “I do not _crush_. I’m twenty-nine years old for God’s sake.”

“So, you just want to fuck his brains out, then?” Clint asked helpfully.

Steve choked on his own spit and looked at Clint’s innocent expression with wide eyes as Sam almost fell out of his chair laughing. 

“Oh, my God, your _face_ ”, Sam gasped between guffaws. 

Steve rested his head against his desk to hide the blush on his cheeks. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” he mumbled dejectedly into the wood.

“If you didn’t want to be talking about it, you shouldn’t have been so obvious about ogling his ass in public.”

Steve just uttered an inhuman groan of mortification. 

“Hey, we like him. Even if he does work for the dark side.”

“He’s driving me absolutely fucking insane,” Steve mumbled.

“Well he is pretty hot,” Clint said thoughtfully. Steve raised his head to look at him in surprise. “I mean, his ass does look amazing in those suits…” he trailed off when he noticed Steve and Sam staring at him. “What? I can recognize hotness, ok? It doesn’t mean I want to bang him.”

“Oh, _God_ ,” Steve groaned, not needing that visual in his life. 

“Seconded,” Sam said as he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I really didn’t need to picture you banging Stark.”

“Hey!”

“Can we please stop talking about this,” Steve begged.

“Not a chance. Watching you squirm is hilarious.”

Steve glared.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS I'M BACK!!
> 
> I'm ashamed of how long this has been sitting unfinished and I'm so sorry to anyone who was waiting for updates!! I can only apologise and promise I'll do better. I love this fic and was terrified of not doing it justice. But I seem to be back on the writing zone at the mo!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! There's loads more to come. Comments and kudos always appreciated!!
> 
> <3 <3 <3

“Rogers!”

Steve jerked his head up from the report he was writing and swivelled around in his chair to see Special Agent in charge, Nicolas Fury’s head poking out of his office door. And glaring at him. 

“Sir?” Steve asked, thinking back on the last few days. He didn’t _think_ he’d done anything that warranted a dressing down from his boss. Well. Other than fucking Tony stark over his boss’ desk. But that _had_ only been in his head. Fury couldn’t actually read minds now, right?

“My office. Now.” Fury glared at him some more – his one eye burning a hole into Steve’s face – before disappearing back behind his door. 

“Yes Sir,” Steve said to the now closed door. He stood up and straightened his tie and noticed Natasha looking at him with a smug smile on her face. “What?” he asked warily. A smiling Natasha could only lead to bad things. 

“You have any plans for tonight?”

Steve blinked at the abrupt non sequitur. “Um…no? I was hoping for a date with my couch and the biggest pizza I can find. Why?”

“No reason.” That smile was really starting to unnerve him. 

“What are you up to?”

“Do you own a tux?”

Steve startled. “What?” 

“A tux. You know, a tuxedo?”

“I know what a tux is,” he huffed irritably. “Why on earth would I need one?”

“So you don’t have one?”

“No, I… What?”

“You do?”

“Yes but—“

“Wonderful. Now run along, don’t want to keep the boss waiting.” With that, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned back to her computer screen. Steve could just see the corner of her upturned mouth through the curtain of her fiery hair. 

“Um, do you want to catch me up? Because I have no idea what just happened—“

“Fucking hell, Rogers! Some time this week would be nice!” 

Steve flinched at Fury’s voice and glared into the side of Natasha’s face. With one last suspicious glance at his partner, he hurried towards Fury’s office.

“Rogers, you’re playing Cinderella for the night,” Fury said without bothering to raise his eye from the paperwork on his desk. “Dust off your ball gown and heels. Although I’d forgo the glass slippers for this one.”

Steve regarded his boss blankly. “Sir?” He was seriously starting to think the whole office was on crack.

“Maria Stark Foundation. Heard of it?”

Steve nodded hesitantly, despite Fury’s eyes staying glued to his desk. 

“Their annual benefit is tonight. You’ll be representing the organization, so dress nice and don’t do anything stupid.”

“I… Um.”

“Great, now get out of my office. Natasha will give you the details.”

Steve turned for the door, but stopped short when Fury spoke again. 

“And get some concealer on that black eye, it won’t match your outfit.”

“Um, yes Sir.”

Steve stood blinking at the top of Fury’s head for a few seconds before finally making it back to his desk, manoeuvring around Clint and Sam who had apparently appeared out of nowhere to perch on the edge of it. He looked up and froze at the matching smug grins on their faces. 

“What?” Steve asked warily.

Clint clutched his hands to his chest dramatically. “Steve, you shall go to the ball!” he cooed, batting his eyelashes. 

Sam snorted next to him, trying and failing to keep a straight face. 

“What… the hell is going on here?” Steve asked with no small amount of trepidation. It’s just a party, right? A party can’t be that bad. Right?”

Sam opened his mouth, but Clint talked over him before he could get a word out. 

“Yeah, Steve it’s going to be _great_ ,” he gushed. “You’re going to rub shoulders with New York’s _elite_. And you’ll be on your best behaviour of course, seeing as how you’re now the face of the agency and one wrong move could make us all look bad. Plus, you’ll do this while acting interested as they get increasingly drunker and drunker thanks to the free bar tell you all about their latest remodel of their second lake house and how amazingly their grandchildren are doing at Yale. _And_ making sure you don’t let on how fucking uncomfortable you are in a monkey suit. Sounds like a riot, right?”

…And Steve hadn’t even thought of that.

“Fuck,” he said with feeling. “So it’s going to be hell.”

“Ninth circle my man,” Clint laughed.

Steve dropped his head into his hands and groaned. 

“Clint, don’t traumatize him,” Natasha scolded with a slap upside his head. Clint ducked and swore in protest.

Sam ignored Clint and patted Steve on the shoulder consolingly. “There there, it won’t be so bad. Loverboy will be there.” 

Steve froze and slowly lifted his head, trying to burn the smirk off of Sam’s face with just the force of his glare. 

“What.”

“Yep, goes every year. It’s his mother’s event after all.”

Maria _Stark_ Foundation. Shit.

Clint was still rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, but seemed to forget all about the pain when he burst into laughter at the sight of Steve’s face. 

“I forgot about that!” Clint managed to gasp out in between giggles. “Man, you’re so fucked.”

“Actually he isn’t. I think that’s the problem,” Natasha muttered, setting both Sam and Clint off again. 

“Natasha!” Steve gasped, scandalized. 

“What? We were all thinking it.”

“Oh _god_.”

“Lighten up, Steve, it won’t be that bad. Clint’s just bitter because he hasn’t been allowed to go back since that first time.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Clint said, pointing a finger at Natasha menacingly. “That wasn’t my fault. And it’s not like they’ve never asked. I just always tell them to shove the gold-leafed invitation up their ass.” Clint stuck his head to the side petulantly. 

“Bullshit,” Natasha laughed. “Fury’s banned you from all public function lists after what you did to that poor Chihuahua.”

“Lies!” Clint gasped, “And that was totally a freak accident—“

They continued to squabble while Steve began to freak out internally. How the hell was he supposed to survive a whole night having to watch everything he said and did _and_ having to stop Tony Stark from getting under his skin? Oh, God this was going to be a disaster. 

“This is going to be a disaster,” Steve repeated aloud.

He suddenly had three pairs of eyes gazing at him with strange mixture of amusement and sympathy. 

“Chill out Steve, it’s like a right of passage for the rookies. You’ll get through it. Just don’t do too good of a job, or Fury will rope you into doing it every year.” Clint winked at him. 

Steve shuddered at the thought.

Natasha dug around in her desk drawer, pulled out a small envelope about the size of a business card and passed it to Steve. Steve weighed it in his palm, surprised at how heavy it was before sliding out the invitation and squinting down at the glittering golden script. 

He looked at Natasha in confusion. “It’s addressed to Fury.”

“Don’t worry, they’re used to random people turning up in Fury’s place, just don’t forget your ID. I don’t think he’s gone to a formal event in over a decade.”

“Lucky Fury,” Steve grumbled. 

“Perks of being the boss.”

“Yeah.” Steve looked back down at the invitation. “Guess I’d better go home and start mentally preparing myself.”

“You do that,” Clint laughed as Steve began gathering his things.

“A car will pick you up from your apartment at 6:30, don’t be late.” Natasha had her laser eyes out again. Jesus.

Wait, a car?

“Nat, I can take a cab. I don’t need—“

“6:30 at your apartment. It’s all been arranged. Don’t be late,” She repeated.

“Not late, got it,” he agreed quickly, knowing that starting an argument with Natasha was about as much use as picking a fight with the Brooklyn Bridge. He made his way to the door and tried to remember the last time he had worn his tux. Peggy’s wedding? Hmmm… He flexed his bicep idly and hoped it would still fit. 

“Have fun!” Natasha called after him with a smirk. 

Steve resisted the urge to flip her off. Look at that, he must be maturing. 

“It’s the perfect place to snag yourself a rich husband, Steve! Don’t let the opportunity pass you by!” 

Steve panned back around and glared at Clint. He simply grinned back, totally unaffected. Damn, he needed to work on his murder face. Maybe he’d better ask Natasha for some tips. 

“Pretty sure he already has one of those lined up,” Sam added with a wink. Natasha hid a smile behind her coffee cup. 

“I hate all of you.”

•••

“I think I need to take it easy at the gym for a while,” Steve said as he emerged from his bedroom that evening. He’d managed to squeeze himself into his tux, but was a little concerned about how some of the seams would hold up. He rolled his shoulders and tried not to cringe at how the fabric pulled taught across his back.

Bucky Barnes turned towards him from his seat at the breakfast bar and wolf-whistled when he saw Steve’s outfit. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve smoothed down the fabric over his arms. “Is it too much?”

“Well, it’s pretty tight…”

“But is it _too_ tight?”

“Nah, just don’t flex too much showing off for all the rich old ladies. And men,” Bucky added with a smirk. 

“Not much chance of that happening.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard…”

Steve’s gaze shot from contemplating his cuffs, to Bucky’s smug face.

“What do you mean what you’ve heard? How have you heard anything?” Steve demanded in horror.

“Some dude called Clint called earlier while you were making yourself look pretty. We had a chat.”

“Fucking hell. The last thing the world needs is for you two to start getting chummy.” Steve cringed at the thought.

Bucky just laughed at him. 

“He said to tell you to that if anyone turns up with a Chihuahua? Stay at least ten feet away from it at all times. Whatever that means.”

“I definitely should have asked Sam for the rest of that story,” Steve said thoughtfully. 

“You heard half that story and didn’t bother to stay for the rest?”

“I was distracted!”

“By what?”

“Uh,” Steve shifted from foot to foot. “Nothing important?”

“Riiiight. He also said, if you’re going to bang Stark, don’t use a cloakroom. They don’t have locks.” Bucky raised his eyebrows expectantly and watched a red-hot blush slide over Steve’s face. 

Steve covered his eyes and let out a groan of mortification. He was going to kill Clint when he next saw him. Slowly.

“Yep. Sounded like he was speaking from personal experience. I think I like this guy.”

“You two are never meeting in person. Ever,” Steve threatened, pointing a finger at Bucky.

“We’ll see.” He let out an exasperated huff as Steve did nothing but stare back at him silently. “Well? Who is this guy? Or girl.”

“Guy,” Steve said reluctantly. “And he’s nobody. Nothing’s happened.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Steve agreed.

Bucky swivelled on his bar stool so he was directly facing Steve and clasped his hands between his knees. Steve watched him run the fingertips of his right hand across the smooth metal ridges that made up his left wrist, following the contours to rub across his palm and back again. It was a nervous habit he’d picked up since having the prosthetic fitted a little over a year ago. Steve’s eyes flickered back up to Bucky’s face and was mildly concerned by the serious expression he found there. 

“Am I going to like this dude?”

“Uh, well…” Honestly the thought of Bucky and Tony meeting was not something that had ever crossed his mind. 

Bucky snorted. “That’s a no.”

“Come on Buck, let’s not scare him off straight away.”

“I resent the implication that I would!”

Steve gave him an unimpressed look. “Come on.”

“If he can’t handle a little harmless interrogation of his intentions and life choices, then why even bother with him?” 

“Normal people don’t expect to be interrogated the first time they meet people, Bucky!”

“Pfft, normal. Who cares about normal? The fate of your love life might rest on this guy.”

“Oh my God, it might not even come to that. There hasn’t been anything serious, it’s just…” Steve trailed off with a shrug, not really knowing _what_ it had been. Flirting? Eye-fucking? Fantasizing about fucking each other over their boss’s desks? Maybe that was just Steve… Either way, none of those options sounded like something he’d enjoy discussing with Bucky. All he knew was that the rush he felt when he was the focus of all that attention from someone like Tony stark… Well, it wasn’t something he wanted to lose. It had been a long, _long_ time since he’d felt such a strong attraction to someone. 

He knew that was part of the reason Bucky was all over him wanting details. Still, he hadn’t anticipated having to spill his guts before he’d even kissed the guy. 

“I like him, ok? But I don’t really know him yet. I don’t know what he wants, or…” Steve made a frustrated noise. “Have I mentioned that we really don’t need to be talking about this?”

“So is he hot?” Bucky asked with a leer, completely ignoring Steve’s attempt to derail the conversation. 

“Not talking about this!” Steve said in a singsong tone as he headed back into his room. He picked his watch up from his dresser and fastened it around his wrist, cursing when he saw the time. He shoved his wallet and keys into his pocket and ran a careless hand through his hair before heading back past Bucky to the front door. 

“Come on,” Bucky called after him. “Give me some deets! You haven’t even told me his first name.”

“What, so you can Google him and stalk him all over the Internet?” Steve asked dubiously.

Bucky goggled at him. “He’s _Google-able_? Holy shit, who is this guy?”

Steve froze, his mind suddenly screaming _ABORT ABORT ABORT_. 

“Steve,” Bucky said threateningly.

Steve coughed. “Uh, you know Stark Industries?” he said reluctantly.

“Yeeeah…?” Bucky glanced down at his metal arm and the tiny ‘SI’ engraved on the inside of his pinky finger, and his eyes widened even further. “Oh my fucking God,” he gasped. “You’re fucking Tony Stark. _The_ Tony Stark? The Tony Stark who turned down the CEO job at Stark Industries to become a fucking _lawyer_ \-- oh shit, that’s how you met isn’t it?”

“Um, yes—“

“Oh my God, you’re going to marry a billionaire—“

“Bucky, Jesus! I told you nothing’s even happened—“ Steve fumbled for the door handle, suddenly feeling the intense need to get the hell out of there before Bucky went nuclear. 

“A BILLIONAIRE, STEVE!” Bucky shrieked.

Oops, too late. 

“Well, I’ll just be going now, I think I hear the car pulling up downstairs…” He resolutely ignored the fact that they were on the eighth floor and could hear exactly nothing. 

“STEVE.”

“Don’t wait up!” Steve yelled back, before slamming the door in Bucky’s face and practically sprinting down the stairs, Bucky’s muffled squawks following him down. 

Steve spilled out onto the street and his eyes immediately caught on a gleaming black Porsche 911 parked at the curb. Steve admired the car’s flowing curves before skipping over it and looking down the street for his ride. 

Just then, the driver’s door of the Porsche swung open and a man wearing a dark suit and shades stepped out.

“Mr Rogers?” the man asked Steve.

“Um, yes?” Steve said in surprise. 

“Got some ID?”

Steve frowned. “Do you?”

The man smiled slightly but pulled his driver’s license out of his jacket pocket and showed it to Steve. “I’m Happy Hogan, Mr Stark’s head of security.” Steve studied the license, more confused than ever, but dug his FBI badge out of his pocket to show the man in return. 

“Tony Stark?”

Happy nodded. “This is for you.” He handed Steve an unaddressed cream envelope. 

Steve took it warily, slid out the note and began to read. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead as he recognized the handwriting. 

_Hi Gorgeous,_

_A little birdy told me I’d be seeing you at the benefit tonight. I suppose we can blame Fury for that. I’m sure you’ll be bored out of your mind for the entire evening, but I thought you at least deserved to arrive in style. Enjoy the wheels. Take good care of her or you’ll make Happy cry._

_Save me a dance._

_TS_

Steve looked back up at the car, his mouth hanging open. He turned back towards Happy and his eyes bugged out at the set of keys Happy was holding out towards him, dangling from one finger. 

“She’s all yours Mr Rogers.” 

Steve took the keys on autopilot. “Wait, what? You’re giving me— I mean Tony’s giving me a car? Just like that?” Steve asked incredulously. 

“She’s yours for the night.”

“But… What?” This was so outside of the norm for Steve that his brain was struggling to keep up. 

“I don’t pretend to know what goes on in Mr Stark’s mind,” Happy said with a shrug. “You do know how to drive?”

“Of course, but…” Steve trailed off, looking down at the keys, having no idea what to say. “Thank you,” he settled on. 

“Thank Mr Stark.” 

_Oh, I intend to_ Steve thought.

Steve just nodded. Happy seemed satisfied, and walked away down the street to where a dark Audi was idling by the curb. Steve hadn’t even noticed its arrival.

Happy opened the passenger door and called out to Steve nonchalantly. “If I find one scratch on that car, they’ll never find your body.” With one last pointed look, he slid into the car and it disappeared around the corner. 

Steve stared after it for several long seconds before he managed to snap out of it. He walked around the Porsche and let out a little hysterical giggle at the absurdity of having a car like this dropped in his lap. 

He cracked the door open and eased himself into the soft bucket seat, slid the key into the ignition and tried not to shiver appreciatively at the throaty growl the engine made as it sparked to life under him. He smoothed his hands over the steering wheel and eased out into the traffic, suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic about the evening ahead. 

He’d have to remember to Snapchat this to Bucky later. Steve laughed out loud imagining the look on his face.


End file.
